Will this be Osborne's worst week yet?

A higher deficit and a triple-dip recession could make this week even worse for the Chancellor than the last one.

Even by recent standards, last week was not a good one for George Osborne. Unemployment was found to have increased by 70,000, the IMF's chief economist warned that he was "playing with fire" by persisting with austerity, Carman Reinhart and Kenneth Rogoff, two of the economists that the Chancellor leant heavily on to justify his economic approach, had their research on debt and growth discredited, and Fitch became the second credit rating agency to strip the UK of its AAA rating

But worse could be to come this week. Tomorrow, borrowing figures for March will be released, the final set for the 2012-13 financial year, and, for the first time since Osborne entered office, they could show that the deficit has risen in annual terms. At the Budget, the OBR forecast that borrowing would be £120.9bn in 2012-13, £100m less than in 2011-12, after the Treasury forced government departments to underspend by an extraordinary £10.9bn in the final months of this year and delayed payments to some international institutions such as the UN and the World Bank. But that £100m difference leaves the Chancellor with little room for error if tax revenues fall short or spending is higher than expected. Whether the deficit marginally rose or fell in 2012-13 is of little economic significance, but it is of immense political significance. Until now, even as growth has disappeared, the Chancellor has been able to boast that borrowing "is falling" and "will continue to fall each and every year". A higher deficit would make it far harder for him to claim that Britain is "on the right track".

Then, two days later, we will learn whether the UK has suffered its first-ever triple-dip recession when the ONS releases its estimate for GDP in Q1 of this year. Again, the Chancellor is expected to have a lucky escape, with most forecasters, in common with the OBR, predicting output of around 0.1 per cent. But that also leaves Osborne with little room for comfort if growth undershoots expectations (as it done so often has in recent history). IPPR's senior economist Tony Dolphin comments: "It is touch and go whether we triple dip, I would say 50/50. Retail sales were up a fraction in March, but manufacturing is expected to be flat and ­construction down. Services will be positive, but the question is whether it will be positive enough to offset construction." Again, whether output slightly grew or slightly shrank in the first quarter is of little economic signifinance. The broad picture is one of prolonged stagnation, with periods of growth alternating with periods of contraction. But as Osborne will know, it's the politics that matter. An unprecedented triple-dip would intensify the calls from all sides - Tory backbenchers, Vince Cable, Labour - for a change of approach, be it Keynesian stimulus or a supply-side revolution. 

There is one way that Osborne could avoid a triple-dip even if the economy is found to have shrunk in Q1: the preceding double-dip could be revised away. After previously estimating that output fell by 0.3 per cent in the final quarter of 2011, the ONS now says it fell by just 0.1 per cent. The number could be further upgraded this week. But such technicalities will count for little if the economy is reported to have shrunk again. 

Tory MPs previously suggested that they would demand the removal of Osborne if the economy failed to show signs of recovery by this time, with one telling the Daily Mail: "You wouldn’t get 80 people supporting Adam Afriyie for leader but you might get 80 or 100 people saying get rid of George." There is little prospect of Cameron acquiescing to such demands. The Prime Minister and his closest political ally continue to rise and fall together. But with the local elections just over a week away and Labour showing signs of strain, a renewed bout of Tory infighting would be unwelcome for Cameron. 

Chancellor of the Exchequer George Osborne attends a press conference at the Treasury in Whitehall on February 6, 2013. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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Why is it called Storm Doris? The psychological impact of naming a storm

“Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person.”

“Oh, piss off Doris,” cried the nation in unison this morning. No, it wasn't that everyone's local cantankerous old lady had thwacked our ankles with her stick. This is a different, more aggressive Doris. Less Werther’s, more extreme weathers. Less bridge club, more bridge collapse.

This is Storm Doris.

A storm that has brought snow, rain, and furious winds up to 94mph to parts of the UK. There are severe weather warnings of wind, snow and ice across the entire country.

But the real question here is: why is it called that? And what impact does the new Met Office policy of naming storms have on us?

Why do we name storms?

Storm Doris is the latest protagonist in the Met Office’s decision to name storms, a pilot scheme introduced in winter 2015/16 now in its second year.

The scheme was introduced to draw attention to severe weather conditions in Britain, and raise awareness of how to prepare for them.

How do we name storms?

The Name our Storms initiative invites the public to suggest names for storms. You can do this by tweeting the @metoffice using the #nameourstorms hashtag and your suggestion, through its Facebook page, or by emailing them.

These names are collated along with suggestions from Met Éireann and compiled into a list. These are whittled down into 21 names, according to which were most suggested – in alphabetical order and alternating between male and female names. This is done according to the US National Hurricane Naming convention, which excludes the letters Q, U, X, Y and Z because there are thought to be too few common names beginning with these letters.

They have to be human names, which is why suggestions in this list revealed by Wired – including Apocalypse, Gnasher, Megatron, In A Teacup (or Ena Tee Cup) – were rejected. The Met Office received 10,000 submissions for the 2016/17 season. According to a spokesperson, a lot of people submit their own names.

Only storms that could have a “medium” or “high” wind impact in the UK and Ireland are named. If there are more than 21 storms in a year, then the naming system starts from Alpha and goes through the Greek alphabet.

The names for this year are: Angus (19-20 Nov ’16), Barbara (23-24 Dec 2016), Conor (25-26 Dec 2016), Doris (now), Ewan, Fleur, Gabriel, Holly, Ivor, Jacqui, Kamil, Louise, Malcolm, Natalie, Oisín, Penelope, Robert, Susan, Thomas, Valerie and Wilbert.

Why does this violent storm have the name of an elderly lady?

Doris is an incongruous name for this storm, so why was it chosen? A Met Office spokesperson says they were just at that stage in their list of names, and there’s no link between the nature of the storm and its name.

But do people send cosy names for violent weather conditions on purpose? “There’s all sorts in there,” a spokesperson tells me. “People don’t try and use cosy names as such.”

What psychological impact does naming storms have on us?

We know that giving names to objects and animals immediately gives us a human connection with them. That’s why we name things we feel close to: a pet owner names their cat, a sailor names their boat, a bore names their car. We even name our virtual assistants –from Microsoft’s Clippy to Amazon’s Alexa.

This gives us a connection beyond practicality with the thing we’ve named.

Remember the response of Walter Palmer, the guy who killed Cecil the Lion? “If I had known this lion had a name and was important to the country or a study, obviously I wouldn’t have taken it,” he said. “Nobody in our hunting party knew before or after the name of this lion.”

So how does giving a storm a name change our attitude towards it?

Evidence suggests that we take it more seriously – or at least pay closer attention. A YouGov survey following the first seven named storms in the Met Office’s scheme shows that 55 per cent of the people polled took measures to prepare for wild weather after hearing that the oncoming storm had been named.

“There was an immediate acceptance of the storm names through all media,” said Gerald Fleming, Head of Forecasting at Met Éireann, the Irish metereological service. “The severe weather messages were more clearly communicated.”

But personalising a storm can backfire. A controversial US study in 2014 by PNAC (Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences) claimed that hurricanes with female names lead to higher death tolls – the more “feminine” the name, like Belle or Cindy, the higher the death toll. This is not because female names are attached to more severe storms; it is reportedly because people take fewer steps to prepare for storms with names they perceive to be unintimidating or weak.

“In judging the intensity of a storm, people appear to be applying their beliefs about how men and women behave,” Sharon Shavitt, a co-author of the study, told the FT at the time. “This makes a female-named hurricane . . . seem gentler and less violent.”

Names have social connotations, and affect our subconscious. Naming a storm can raise awareness of it, but it can also affect our behaviour towards it.

What’s it like sharing a name with a deadly storm?

We should also spare a thought for the impact sharing a name with a notorious weather event can have on a person. Katrina Nicholson, a nurse who lives in Glasgow, says it was “horrible” when the 2005 hurricane – one of the fifth deadliest ever in the US – was given her name.

“It was horrible having something so destructive associated with my name. Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person,” she tells me over email. “I actually remember at the time meeting an American tourist on a boat trip in Skye and when he heard my name he immediately linked it to the storm – although he quickly felt guilty and then said it was a lovely name! I think to this day there will be many Americans who hate my name because of it.”

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.